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in the morning. The idea of falling asleep behind the wheel while driving to work terrified her,” she emphasized.
    Logan took back the container, intending on giving it to his father to send to toxicology.
    “Still, over time, people develop a tolerance for medications. Maybe she found that one pill wasn’t enough for her anymore and she took two—and then more. Or maybe she just wanted to sleep forever because her boyfriend dumped her.”
    He was back to that again. What was he, Johnny One-note? she thought angrily. How many ways did she have to say this before it finally sank into the thick skull of his?
    “No,” Destiny insisted with feeling. “Paula wouldn’t have done that. Someone killed my sister,” she said, enunciating each word separately. “I don’t know who it was, but I do know that Paula didn’t do it herself—accidentally or otherwise,” Destiny added in case he was going to suggest that next.
    “All right,” Logan relented.
    His father’s lead assistant wasn’t about to come around to his side or even remotely entertain the idea that her sister had committed suicide. And since his father seemed to believe that someone else had delivered the slash marks to the young woman’s wrists, for the time being he’d go along with the popular theory.
    Besides, he really didn’t enjoy upsetting her, considering that she was still dealing with the shock of finding her sister dead.
    “We’ll approach it that way for now.” Leaving the bathroom, still holding the prescription container with his handkerchief wrapped around it, Logan handed it to his father.
    “The pills are probably all in her stomach,” he told him not as his father, but as the head of the crime scene lab.
    “You’re most likely right,” Sean agreed. “Whoever killed her probably slipped the pills into her drink. That way there’d be no resistance to what he was going to do next.” He lowered his voice so that only Logan could hear. “Poor thing never stood a chance.”
    Logan nodded vaguely. He wasn’t doing anyone any good just standing here, he decided, and announced, “I’m going to canvass the floor, see if anyone heard or saw anything out of the ordinary.”
    “But you don’t think so,” Destiny surmised.
    “I didn’t say that,” Logan maintained. He didn’t like being second-guessed. For the most part, he liked to think that on the job he was unreadable. He prided himself on that.
    Besides, he was always open to possibilities. This job consisted of equal parts skill and luck.
    “Hey, you never know. Stranger things have happened. And not everyone works nine to five,” he added cavalierly. “So maybe someone did hear something.” Logan paused just next to his father as he began to head out the front door. “Maybe I’ll see you this Sunday.” It was as close as he allowed himself to get to making a commitment that involved his new family.
    “Maybe,” Sean echoed with a faint nod.
    “Sunday?” Destiny repeated, her smattering of curiosity getting the better of her when it came to this handsome, arrogant would-be crime fighter. “What’s this Sunday?”
    Since he knew that this woman worked closely with his father—it had to be closely for his father to display this kind of regard for her, treating her as if she was another one of his daughters—he was surprised that she didn’t know.
    “The former chief of police, my new uncle,” he added, amused by the whole concept of getting such a huge number of brand-new blood relatives at his age. “He likes to throw family get-togethers. Word has it that any of us can drop by his table to get a full breakfast any day of the week, but apparently he goes all out on Sundays.
    “My father is settling into this new life and doing his best to show up every Sunday to prove how serious he is about being assimilated by the Cavanaughs—and making up for lost time.”
    Destiny nodded. Though Sean Cavanaugh wasn’t an overly talkative man, he had shared some of